


Quiet Comfort

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Gabriel takes care of Dean, Gabriel's a total softie, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Illness, POV Second Person, Romance, Sappy, Sick Dean Winchester, Sore throat, h/c_bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3102086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is sick and Gabriel just wants to make his boyfriend feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Written for h/c bingo for the prompt ‘minor illness,’ in which I chose sore throat. Written in second person, which I’ve been wanting to try again.

Every day’s a new day when you’re living with the Winchesters. A new hunt, a new layer of Dean to work through, a new aspect of yourself to discover. Everything’s about Dean these days: forcing him to confront his self-worth issues; getting him to face his daddy issues head-on, but only when you’re prepared to deal with your own; centering your free time around him whenever he’s around and not on a hunt. You tease him and flirt with him and engage in banter until it turns into a screaming match and Dean is red in the face and Sam is pounding on the door, yelling at the both of you to shut up.

Yep, Dean has quite a lot to work through.

But you’re perfectly okay with that; after all, you knew your boyfriend had baggage even before you made the decision to be with him as long as you could possibly keep him alive.

Of course, hallelujah, there’s sex and tons of it, some days you simply refuse to let Dean out of bed, but that’s not what it’s all about. You care about Dean a whole helluva lot and you want him to actually be _okay_ , want him to stop hating himself and thinking that all you want him for is sex and company until you get bored again.

But Dean Winchester’s not exactly someone you could ever get bored of.

So yes, you refrain from sex sometimes, but only sometimes. Dean may hate you the more for it, for shoving him off of you while you suggest actual snuggling time in bed or on the couch - you give him the choice after all - or other means of spending quality time together such as watching a good action flick or baking cupcakes or even going out for a ride in Dean’s baby, which you’re slightly less jealous of than you were before.

Boy, you’ve really changed, haven’t you?

Point is, you’re willing to do whatever it takes to actually _get_ Dean. To shove yourself past all those crumbling layers and find the real _Dean_ , the Dean who loves and breaks all at the same time. The Dean who hides his love for you behind decades of self-hatred and guilt. There’s regret in that tangled head of his to fill dozens of notebooks. You can only sigh most days, sucking on a lollipop and reading a magazine though thinking about your ridiculous boyfriend the whole time. You don’t know when you turned Dean into a charity chase, or so Dean would claim, but you feel that you’re all too set to go down with him when he decides to self-destruct. It’s only really a matter of time.

But for now, you’re content enough to park your ass down in the present moment. 

Although, the present moment isn’t much more of a stress reducer than thinking about all the ways Dean could die, all the things that could go wrong, all the ways you could fuck it up.

Dean is currently coughing so hard you think he’s about to hack up one of his vital organs. The hacking and then gasping in a lungful of air sounds painful and you wince, not able to think up a sarcastic remark at this point in time and hating yourself for it because it would definitely lighten the moment. Dean looks really uncomfortable and really out of it and you wonder if he even knows you’re in the room with him, and suddenly you want someone to pay attention to you but violently tamper it down before it spirals out of control.

Dean’s sick, you tell yourself, that’s all. He’s got a cold or the flu or something completely normal, maybe not for you but for him yeah. He can deal. In fact, it’ll give him a chance to slow down and stop hunting for a day or two.

So why do you feel so guilty then?

Sam sits on the end of Dean’s bed with his long limbs and floppy hair, and if you look at him a certain way he almost looks like a teenager. Dean’s already been sick for two days and both you and Sam are already getting worn out from it, sick and tired of the coughing and fevering all night, and you’re not seeing an end in sight. It makes you want to snap your pretty little fingers and get him standing on his own two feet again. But Dean’s exhaustion is more from running himself ragged prior to getting sick than actually battling this pathetic human sickness. Whatever keeps Dean in bed, you’ll bow down to it for just a while longer.

There are ear buds shoved into Sam’s ears and some small contraption in his hand, probably to tune out the terrible sound of Dean’s coughing. You just stand there watching Dean, not sure what to do, pretty damn worried that he is in fact dying even if Sam doesn’t seem the least bit concerned.

You attempt to elevate your boyfriend further, pulling him forward to fluff his pillow and then gingerly laying him back down again. Immediately, you can tell that his breathing’s easier even if all you can hear is a pathetic sounding wheeze that sounds like it’s coming from a creature much smaller than the larger than life superhero Dean Winchester.

Superhero? Hmm. You’ve never called him that before.

Dean looks at you with a strange look on his face and you take it as gratitude and lean him forward again to rub his back. Dean purrs in contentment and it does actually sound like a purr with that rumbling sound in his chest every time he breathes in.

He does look kinda adorable when he’s sick, nose red and raw and cheeks flushed, eyes bloodshot and cute little snuffling noises from his congested sinuses. But you’re not gonna tell him all this... yet. 

It doesn’t take long before Dean’s tired of you helping him. “Lemme...,” he squirms and you roll your eyes dramatically.

You ignore him and pound the pillows into submission, securing Dean’s weak form against them again but then keeping your hands to yourself. Music spills from the other Winchester’s headphones, some pop song with an annoying bass beat, but you ignore that too with your patience dwindling, and you listen to your boyfriend cough and wheeze some more as if it’s the most beautiful sound in the world and it’s made all for you.

“Can you get excited over something else other than the fact that I’m dying?”

You immediately school your face into something more neutral. You’re startled by Sam shifting on the bed and telling his brother off. Apparently, his music’s not loud enough to block Dean out of hearing. “You’re not dying, Dean.”

“Says you,” Dean snuffles and turns his face into the pillow.  He moans in misery for a moment before realizing he’s not able to breathe with his face shoved into the pillow, and turns his head slowly around to face you again. “Lift me up a little, will ya?”

Finally, Dean freaking Winchester _asking_ for something. From _you._

You nod and respond immediately, even though you’ve already lifted him up twice before. Still, there’s really no arguing with Dean, and if you can help him in any way then you will. Not because he’s your boyfriend or because you feel responsible for him, but because you love him.

You’re surprising yourself with your lack of talking, as well as Dean, who quirks an eyebrow at you like you’re the one who’s sick and needs to be in bed. Finally the attention’s on you now, but you definitely don’t want it anymore. Dean looks too miserable to laugh at, and you’re cringing as you wait for him to start coughing again. Dean, who usually shrinks under what he deems unnecessary attention, is the only person in the room currently making any sound, either groaning in discomfort or complaining. Usually, you’re nothing less than a chatter box in your mission to drive Dean insane enough to give into your every whim, or at least most of them anyway.

But today you’re concentrating, trying to figure out what Dean needs that he’s not telling you but that he won’t reject.

“That music is god awful....” Dean doesn’t even have to finish the sentence before you kick Sam out of the room and shut the door firmly behind him. Sam opens his mouth to protest before you shove him out, though ultimately thinks better of it and says, ‘make him feel better, Gabriel,’ before walking the rest of the way out.

When the door closes you’re finally alone with Dean, and Dean breathes out a sigh of relief from the bed, though instantly regrets it as he starts coughing again. He breaks it off after about an hour with a moan, and you settle yourself on the bed, closer than Sam was before.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Nah.” Dean’s head collapses back against the pillow and he eyes you with gratitude and longing, “Just you, Gabe.” He looks tired, so tired that it physically hurts you to see him like this. But Dean won’t let you heal him so you won’t. He won’t let you risk being found the second you use your mojo on him. So you sit there like an idiot and think about all the things you could do and then the things that Dean would really appreciate.

You smile for a moment because you love knowing that you’re needed, especially that you’re needed by Dean Winchester. But then you realize how sore his throat must be and you force him to drink a glass of water. It doesn’t slip past you that Dean’s whole body is trembling from exhaustion or the need to cough until he passes out, and you don’t know which one it is but you’ll be damned if you stand on the sidelines and let Dean suffer alone. You run your fingers up and down every inch of your human’s body, examining him, taking note of how fragile Dean truly is. Starting on his upper arms you soon travel down to his hands and fingers, squeezing them gently, and then travel down to his stomach, belly and legs. There’s an urge to tickle him, but Dean’s breathing is rough enough and Dean’s finally starting to relax again.

Your boyfriend’s too worn out to do much but lie back, cough and let you touch him until you’ve had your fill. Except that you never will. As a reward for his good behavior, you slip a cough drop in between his lips and the human immediately sucks on it and swallows profusely as if it’s life itself.

You have a few cures for that sore throat of his that you’ll tell him about later: a bowl of chocolate ice cream and more cherry cough drops to last for two months if need be, but you hope not. You also have enough movies to last the two of you for two years, not that anyone’s counting.

Seriously though, you could get used to Dean being laid up in bed.  

“The human body is a strange thing,” you murmur, more to yourself than anyone else. You’re mesmerized as always by Dean, the freckles that stand out starkly against his pale features on the bridge of his nose and upon his delicate cheeks, the way his wet eyelashes cling to his overheated skin and how small and utterly human he is. And yes, you are choosing to ignore the fact that _you’re_ smaller than _him._ You’ll protect him at all costs, and yes, you’ll even die for him.  

“Hmm?”

“Nothing,” you respond, eyes drifting back up towards Dean’s hazy, clouded ones. “You should rest. Nothing will disturb us unless I see fit, kiddo.” Dean seems to relax at the ‘us’ part especially, and he sags back against the pillows with a deep and weary sigh, his fingers grasping onto and then curling around yours. You look down for a moment, at your hand entwined with Dean’s, suspended in a state of disbelief. It’s not that Dean hasn’t held hands with you before, but it’s so rare that it seems like it’s never been done before.

“It’d be nice,” Dean mumbles, yawning, his eyes slipping closed and you’re thrilled because he can’t see that you’re beaming. You’ll take Dean’s affection any day, and maybe it’s because his barriers are so completely down that you’re finally seeing it. “If you stayed,” Dean finishes, and you have an idea that he has no idea what he’s saying.

Your whisper is too late, spoken when your boyfriend has fallen asleep again. Somehow though, it doesn’t really matter. “My plan is to stay forever.”

Forever will - hopefully - be long enough.

**FIN**


End file.
